


This Little Light of Mine

by babyboyplaid



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Abusive John, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Bottom Dean Winchester, Dark, Dark Sam Winchester, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, M/M, Possessive Sam Winchester, Rape, Teacher Sam Winchester, Top Sam Winchester, Underage Dean Winchester, Underage Sex, Unrelated Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:27:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24514603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babyboyplaid/pseuds/babyboyplaid
Summary: "This little light of mine; I'm gonna let it shine.Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.Won't let no devil blow it out..."OrOne where Dean tries so hard to be hopeful in spite of the darkness around him. He tries to shine, but there's a Devil around every corner... waiting to blow that little light out.AlsoOne where Sam tells himself that maybe he can save the damaged boy in his class. Only, Sam wonders if he is just another devil.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/John Winchester, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 14
Kudos: 62





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a mixture of light and dark elements. There will be moments of intense, non-consensual rape (as evidenced by this first chapter). There are underage characters involved. You have been warned. 
> 
> Beyond that, thanks for stopping by and be sure to leave a comment at the end!

Dean laid awake in his bed, eyes trailing down to his feet as though they were miles away from the rest of his body. He let out a slow breath and turned onto his stomach, just trying to push the thought from his mind and focus on going to sleep. _Gotta sleep Dean... you've gotta get to sleep._ Despite his best efforts, the sixteen year old was finding it increasingly difficult to fall asleep on nights like these. Nights where he knew his father was downstairs drinking; nights where he would often wake to the man standing at the foot of his bed, breathing heavy... _can't think about that, Dean. Just breathe, make up a story. You always fall asleep like that._

Dean convinces himself of the little lie that if he goes to sleep, the world around him can't bother him. Like if he isn't away to see it, it doesn't exist. There's a part of him that knows its not true and that the world is very much real even when he desperately hopes that it is not. He also knows that if he doesn't get enough sleep, he won't be able to focus in school the next day. Then his grades fall behind and his teachers become disappointed in him. He didn't want that. Licking his lips slowly, he throws his head down one last time in an attempt to push himself into a slumber.  _Just gotta make up a nice story._

His thoughts are interrupted by the sound of boots falling heavy on the stairs outside his door. The small house didn't have much of a second floor, just enough space for two bedrooms. Dean prays, hard, that the boots will just keep on to the next door but there is nothing but the deafening silence as they reach a stop outside of his room. He swallows a thick lump in his throat and then the dreaded sound of his door creaking open fills the void between him and his father. 

Maybe it was his own fault really. Dean couldn't help it that his eyes sparkled green like his mother's and yet he couldn't stop feeling like he'd brought this on himself. Didn't help that his father made him feel the same way.  _Getting too old to prance around in front of your daddy in underwear. God, you look just like your mother._ Those words had been hot and heavy against his skin the first time John had pinned Dean to the mattress and taken what he wanted. Dean was only a year younger at fifteen at the time when his body first felt the pain his father could give out. 

Dean tried to tell himself if he just laid impossibly still that maybe the man would just leave him alone. Maybe if he just bored John so much he would move on to other things.  _Stupid, stupid Dean..._ There was the rustling of a shirt being taken off and the whoosh of air that followed as it hit the floor. Then came the rattling of a belt and Dean felt a chill run down his spine.  _Happy thoughts, Dean... think of that time you were riding in the car and daddy was playing your favorite Led Zeppelin song._ He is pulled out of those thoughts as he feels his covers sliding away from his body and its just his bare body in front of his dad, ass only covered by the thin fabric of his breaths. There's a rattle and he can tell John's pants have gone down to the ground. He hoped he could survive this round. 

The man's hands slid up the backs of his thighs, the evidence of his baby fat still found in the way there was just the slightest bit of chub there. Dean's face burned hot and his eyes were wet as the man grabbed onto the waist band of his underwear. Just like that, they were yanked down his legs and tossed aside. The little whimper that fell from his lips gave Dean away and his thighs began to tremble as he felt the heavy heat of John climbing onto the back of his legs. 

“You be quiet, Dean Winchester. Or I'm gonna give you something to cry about.” His voice is rough and the words are a little slurred. Dean just presses his face against the pillow.  _Gotta hide._

“Y-y-yes, sir.” The trembling reply fell from his lips, muffled by the pillow. 

John rummages into the drawer beside Dean's bed where he keeps a bottle of lube just for these kinds of moments. Dean wasn't stupid enough to move it. There's a slick sound behind him and then John is leaning over closer to Dean, the whiskey tainted, hot breath falling down the back of his neck. Without much of a warning, there is a splitting pain in his ass as John sinks his cock into Dean. His legs kick a bit as John is forcing his way into Dean's tight body. Dean's fingers come up to press and claw at the hands beside his head but he is no match for his stronger father. 

“Stop your fighting. Done told you about that.” John's gruff voice fell, followed by a harsh smack to the back of his head. 

Dean let out a shuddering gasp as he felt John all the way inside him and he felt like his body was going to split totally in two around John's cock. It never stopped hurting like John had promised. It isn't always like this. Sometimes, John is slow and sweet and works Dean into believing he wants what is being done to him. _Stupid, stupid cock getting hard at the wrong times..._

John waits the briefest of moments before his hips are moving and all Dean can do is let out silent little cries as he clutches onto his pillows. The man is heavy and strong and Dean's entire body is being pressed into his mattress. The sound of John's grunts, the sound of skin slapping and the mattress creaking filled the air. Dean wanted to scream but he knew better; he knew that John would only make him pay for that. He'd bled the last time he screamed. 

_It's spring and the flowers are coming up so nice... daddy says you can get ice cream later._

Despite his best efforts to pull himself away from the moment, he can't as John holds his head down against the pillow and is plowing hard into his ass. His humiliation is only worsened as John speaks. 

“God, you take dick better than your mother. So glad I fucked her because now I have you.” 

Is that all Dean is to the man? Just a way to get off and then leave him a crumpled, crying mess? He doesn't want this, doesn't want the way his daddy is pressing into all the wrong places. Dean feels dirty and violated every time they do this, even on the times where it isn't so rough and hard. He tries to hold his breath, thinking maybe he can just stop all together. Except his body gives in and gasps a moment later as his daddy is hitting him some particularly hard thrusts and Dean thinks the man might fuck him to death. 

John's hips come to a stuttering halt and there is the awful feeling of his dad's come filling up his ass. The man hovers there for a long moment before he pulls out with a sickening wet pop and Dean finally feels so empty. Mercy, at last. John moves to sit on the edge of the bed and Dean swallows thickly, hiding his tear stained face away in the pillow. 

“Get some sleep.” He says before he is wondering to pick up his clothes and then leaves the room. 

_Great fucking idea, dad._

Dean closes his eyes as the man leaves and lays there in the aftermath of getting fucked by his father. He's lost count of how many times it has been and he whimpers softly as he pushes himself up. He gets some tissue from the bedside table and reaches around to clean himself up. He would've probably bled from the fucking if his body wasn't so used to it by that point. It was like his ass had just given up and accepted that John's cock was going to be going in there. 

He wonders if life will ever be normal. Dean reminds himself he just has to focus on his school work for now. He has to do so good so he can get into a nice college and finally get away from his father; unless the man finds some way to ruin that. Unless the devil finds a way to blow out that particular candle. All he wants is to be normal for once. Go to cook outs, play baseball, chase girls ( _ok, maybe boys but you can't think about that_ ). Dean just wants to be a normal boy. Chances are he probably could except for the fact that at every turn, there was John. There was always John and all Dean could do was look up, wide eyed at the man he called father. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Every night when I go out,   
> The weasels on the table.   
> That's the way the money goes.  
> Pop goes the weasel." 
> 
> Dean tries to survive but he isn't sure how good of a job he is doing.

The next morning was always the hardest. Dean having to wake up to the aftermath of what his father had done was always a painful jerk back to reality. His bones ached as he creaked up and out of the bed, muscles tense and sore as he made his way over to his dresser. For a moment, he couldn't bring himself to look up into the mirror. When he did though, he was forced to confront the growing hollowness in his eyes. As his eyes scanned over his body, he noticed that his hips each had a hand print bruise on them, a fading sign of what possessed his body at nights. Swallowing thickly, he pushed a hand through his hair and started to get dressed. At least morning time meant getting to clean up.

He made his way into the bathroom and groaned as he stretched and then gave his hair a solid combing. A thorough brushing of his teeth and then a good face wash left him feeling like a somewhat put together boy again. A sigh left his chest as he realized he was going to have to make his way downstairs and that would probably mean facing his dad. _Breakfast time used to be so nice. At least, when mom is around. Don't let him hear you say that, stupid._ His feet caused the stairs to creak as he came to stand in the doorway of the kitchen. Even though he had on a plaid shirt and some jeans, he still felt so exposed. At least the man didn't look directly at him. Dean went in and made himself a bowl of cereal, quietly sitting down at the table. Every time his father moved, Dean braced himself for the impact of a hand or his voice booming at him. For now, the monster was quiet. 

The rest of the morning was uneventful and soon enough, his bus was pulling up outside their quiet little driveway. Dean was pretty sure that all the neighbors talked about them but no one was brave enough to say anything. If they didn't see, there was a good chance they may have heard when John's anger spilled over onto Dean. With a quick pace, Dean made his way down the gravel drive and up onto the bus. He kept his head low, afraid that someone would look into his eyes and know that his father had fucked him just the night before. Dean could never handle them knowing his secret. 

When he made it into the school halls, they were bustling with students moving to and from their lockers, trying to get ready for the day ahead. Just another typical day for an American teenager.  _Unless your father views you as some kind of sex object._

Dean was standing at his locker when there was a sudden presence beside him. A flash of blonde hair and then a jab to his arm brought his attention back to the immediate world around him. 

“What's up, jerk?” Jo laughed softly. 

“How am I the jerk when you attack me on sight every time?” Dean scoffed playfully. 

“I hardly attacked you, Dean Winchester!” 

Dean was about to retort when there was another, less chaotic energy joining them. Cas strode up, wearing his usual soft sweater and jeans. The mess of brown hair framed his face and eyes in such a way that one had to wonder if he had truly fallen from Heaven on his way down; he was just that remarkably beautiful.  _Stop being gay for your best friend, Dean._

“Jo, are you harassing Dean again?” Cas' soft voice came out into the space between them. 

“I haven't done anything!” She exclaimed. 

“That's the understatement of the year.” Dean snorted. 

“See? Jerk. The proof is in the pudding.” 

The bell rang to signal they had to make their way to class. Jo punched his arm again before smirking and heading off down the hall. Cas and Dean had first period English together.  _Ok, so maybe Mr. Winchester made the class a little more exciting than he was used to._ Dean really had to stop thinking about how his English teacher managed to make him squirm in his seat with such a profound ease. 

The boys chatted about random stuff as they made their way to class. Once they were settled into their seats, Sam Winchester strode around the corner into his room and Dean may or may not have bitten his lip slightly. Dean was still trying to figure out the endlessly complicated intricacies of his sexuality. Mr. Winchester had a way of laying all of Dean's truths bare directly in front of him. The man was dressed in a green sweater with a polo shirt underneath and a tie tucked neatly inside the sweater. It would be corny if the man wasn't incredibly attractive. 

There was the quick rustling of pages as everyone moved to get their books out. Dean, of course, had his marked with little sticky notes to point out his areas of interest. In all honesty, he was a pretty bright kid and a studious student. He had to be, if he had any hope of surviving. School was his one way ticket out of the hell hole of his life. 

As the man began to talk through his lesson for the day, Dean did his best to concentrate on what was being said. His head was cloudy from the night before and he found his thoughts drifting up into the clouds. Without even realizing it, his eyes had began to droop closed and he was startled awake by a voice not to far from him. 

“Dean. Dean!” 

He shook his head as he came back to the present moment and wiped at his eyes. 

“Sorry, Mr. Winchester.” He mumbled. 

“Just wanted to make sure you were still with us.” He said and then quickly moved back into his lesson. 

God, he had to figure out sleep and fast. 

Dean sat back into his seat and did his best to keep up with the material that Mr. Winchester was going over. The rest of class was rather uneventful with Mr. Winchester going through the various details of the book they were currently reading – To Kill A Mockingbird to be exact. Dean honestly enjoyed the book and found most of the material thought provoking. Or maybe, it was just Sam getting into his head again. Books meant Mr. Winchester and Mr. Winchester meant Dean had to deal with the funny tingles the man gave him. 

As the ball rang though, Dean's heart sank as he heard his name. 

“Be sure to study up for your test on Wednesday! Dean, if I could see you for a moment.” He said as he passed by the boy's desk. 

Dean was sure he was going to pass out on his way to follow after Sam to his desk where Dean stopped a couple of feet short. The man, ever self assured, went around and took a seat in his chair before looking up at Dean.

“You feeling ok?”

Dean swallowed and averted his gaze. “Yeah. What do you mean?”

Mr. Winchester sat forward on his elbows, that stupid shirt hugging his arms in all the right ways.

“I'm worried about you. Is everything ok at home?”

Rumors flew through the small town that John Winchester wasn't a good man. Those rumors were true but no one ever had enough information to act. That, or they just didn't care enough. That of course left Dean in the cross hairs of his father for longer than he cared to admit. ( _'Don't tell anyone, you hear me? Keep your mouth shut.' 'Yessir!'_ ) 

“Yeah, everything is cool.” 

“You seem to be sleepy a lot.” 

It wasn't a question but rather a statement. One that Dean felt was probing deeper than it would seem at first glance. 

“Yeah, well you know... just trying to get ready for college.” 

That seemed to spark a moment of interest with the man as his eyes grew a bit larger. 

“Where are you thinking of going?” 

“Kansas State.” 

“My old stomping grounds.” He chuckled. “What do you wanna major in?” 

“I don't know. I was thinking maybe business.” 

“I see your doodles sometimes. You ever think about art school?” 

That was unexpected and left Dean feeling odd. 

“Not really.” 

“You should.” Sam sighed softly. 

Without even realizing it, Dean had relaxed. Mr. Winchester had an odd way of disarming him without Dean even noticing. 

“Well listen, kiddo. Take this and give me a ring if you find yourself in a bad situation.” Sam said, holding out a card. 

“Oh, Mr. Winchester, I don't know if I--” 

“I wasn't asking.” Sam's voice was unexpectedly gruff. 

“Yessir.” Dean's voice came out meeker than he'd meant for and a soft blush colored his cheeks.

Dean took the card quickly and put it in his pocket. Sam scribbled something on a yellow sticky note and held it out to Dean. 

“Show this to your next teacher so you don't get in trouble.” 

Dean took it graciously and smiled. “Thank you.” 

With that, he turned on his heels and left the room quickly. Oh, he wasn't going to his next class. He slipped into the bathroom and locked himself in a stall because he had a lot of things to sort out in his head. Dean felt like Sam knew things that Dean thought he was keeping rather well hidden and that shook him a little bit. He did his best to collect himself but before he realized it, he was sitting on the toilet and crying a bit. He felt so impossibly weak in that morning, his father's voice running around his head that boy's don't cry; that he should just grow a pair and deal with it. Dean couldn't though and he practically let out a sob as he hunched over, trying to control the well of emotions flowing out of his chest. Eventually, he manged to get himself back under control and he dried his face before he slipped off into the rest of his day as though nothing had happened. 

At the end of his day, Dean wound up in front of the school. His father hadn't called to say he was coming so that meant Dean had to find a way home. He could take the bus but that was its own problem. He hated having to sit on the bus and listen to the children ramble on about their days. He could, however, walk home. If he cut through a field and through some woods, it was only a couple of miles to get to his house and he'd done it plenty of times before. Just as he was about to set off, a friendly face appeared at his side. 

“Where are you headed?” Cas offered his chipper smile. 

If Dean hadn't been friends with the boy since freshman year, he would find his sunny disposition a little annoying and off putting. But sometimes, Dean figured it would be nice to have someone to cheer him up. 

“Home. Dad's not coming.” 

“Want me to walk with you? I can call my mom to pick me up once we get close to yours.” He offered, practically beaming at Dean. 

“Sure.” Dean smiled in return and they were soon walking off across the field, flowers floating in the breeze around them. 

Somewhere along the walk, Dean found Cas' arm looped into his own but he didn't find it odd. The smaller boy could be a bit clingy at times. 

“Benny's mad at me.” Cas sighed. 

_Fucking_ Benny. Dean had never met another person in his life that he hated as much as he did the twat that Cas insisted on calling a boyfriend. 

“You should leave him.” Dean said, voice flat. 

“It's not that easy.” Cas said, voice quiet. 

“Want me to punch him in the face? I'll do it.” Dean offered. 

Cas just offered a small laugh and hit Dean's chest playfully. “Stop it.” 

Dean didn't take that as a no. He'd fucking do it. 

“He doesn't treat you right, Cas.” 

“He's not always an asshole.” 

“Oh like that's supposed to make it better?” 

Dean had a feeling Cas knew wha he needed to do. He just wasn't brave enough to do it. 

“I'm punching him.” 

“Dean Winchester, you will not.” Cas insisted. 

If there was anything that might describe how Dean felt toward Cas, it would be softness. Some might describe it as a crush but that just wasn't the way he saw Cas. He wondered sometime if the shorter boy saw him that way. Probably, with the way he was so keen on looping arms with Dean when they walked together. Dean didn't mind though, but he hoped he wasn't leading the poor boy on. Once they broke through the wooded area onto the road that would lead to Dean's house, they stopped and Cas sent out a call to his mom. They'd done this before and it was usually a five minute wait for the woman to get there. When she arrived, Cas broke from Dean though his fingers trailed for a moment.

With that, he set off towards his own house which he could now see. He let out a low sigh as he began to crunch along the gravel and got to the front door. He could hear his dad's radio playing from the living room and it dawned on him why the man didn't come. He was drinking. Just fucking great. Letting out a low breath, he pushed in through the door and saw his dad in his recliner with a beer, shirtless. Dean grimaced a bit and looked away.

“What's going on, sweet cheeks?” John said, words slurring from the alcohol.

When John talked like that, it wasn't a good sign.

“Just... coming home.” He offered. “Dad, I just wan--”

“Nonsense.” John cut him off before he could finish. “Come say hi to your old man.”

Dean felt his stomach churn a bit and he fidgeted. 'Say hi' was code for 'come give me a kiss so I can feel you up' and Dean knew it. He made his way forward obediently though, leaning down to offer the man a peck on the cheek. John let out a happy grunt and then his hand was on Dean's ass, firm and pressing in between his thighs. Dean let out a little gasp and braced his hands on the man's chest, fingers curling against the hair there.

“Dad, ple--” Dean tried again but was cut short.

“If you're gonna insist on back talking, I'm just gonna have to find another use for your mouth.” John growled before gripping Dean's hair and shoved him down to his knees.

The man was impossibly strong from his days working in the lumber yard. Dean never stood a chance and he knew it. He whimpered loudly as he tried to squirm but his dad was just far too strong.

“Gonna have to show you what I think about mouthy little brats.” He grunted as he was undoing his belt and then his cock was out, hard and already leaking a little.

Dean nearly gagged already. He wanted desperately to get away from his father, to end this exchange. He couldn't though and when John picked up what he was trying, he pushed forward mercilessly. The man forced Dean onto his cock and the boy sputtered a bit as he tried to fit it all in is mouth. His feet kicked behind him and he let out a little sob onto the man's cock as John just pushed him further down, burying Dean's nose into his pubes. The musk from John's day was still strong there and Dean felt his eyes watering profusely. Gagging and choking, Dean struggled a bit as John pumped into Dean's throat a few times. Dean got the distinct impression John got off on watching Dean struggle like this.

When Dean felt his head getting pushed up and down, he knew that wasn't a good sign. He braced his hands on the man's hips in an attempt to free himself but he was just met with more brute strength. He whimpered low as he looked up at John, attempting to plead for mercy. That was not what he found there.

“That's right, let me see those pretty little eyes.”

Dean blinked once and then there was come spilling into his mouth, filling up every bit of space he had. Dean had no choice but to swallow because John kept him on his cock as it spasmed out the last few drops onto his tongue. When Dean was finally released, he collapsed to the side, gasping for air.

“Dirty fucking boy.” John grunted as he began to put his cock away. “Getting your daddy hard like that. Go do the dishes before I change my mind about beating your ass.”

It didn't take Dean even a moment before he was scrambling to get off the floor. John always meant what he said. Dean knew that John was right though. He was always turning the man on, making him want to do these things. Like the kiss. Though, Dean didn't really have a choice in the matter. He stood at the sink, his throat aching as he began to wash up the dishes from the night before. Dean wanted to cry for the second time that day but he wouldn't allow himself to. Not in front of his father.

Dean froze when he heard the creaking of the chair in the living room. John was standing up and moving. He got back to work as the man stomped into the kitchen, heading for the fridge when Dean heard the footsteps come to an abrupt stop. He kept his eyes low as he felt his father come up behind him and then John was picking up a dish. Dean knew it was just a ploy.

John spun him around and held under Dean's chin with one hand as he held the dish up in the other.

“You call this fucking clean, huh? It's fucking filthy.” John spat. “Can't even be a proper fucking sissy boy, can you?” John continued.

A second later, Dean felt a strong hand connect with his cheek as he was slapped down to the floor. John tossed the dish into the sink.

“Get the fuck up.” John growled as he stomped away but this time he went for the door. A moment later, his engine fired up and he sped off down the road.

Dean clawed his way back up onto his feet, vision still blurring from the smack. He'd learned to make excuses for the marks his father left on him. He'd have to figure this one out before long. Dean cried as he finished cleaning the dishes, washing each one three times just to be sure. Afterwards, he stumbled off to slump down onto the couch, just trying to catch his breath. Somehow, on autopilot, he found his phone in his hand. He wasn't even sure why he was doing but Dean was sure this was a pretty bad situation.

He sniffled as he held it up to his good cheek, waiting to see if the man he was waiting on would pick up. It took a moment but then he heard a voice on the other end.

“Hello?” Sam's voice came over the phone and Dean found a strange relief flooding through his veins.

“H-hi. It's D-Dean.” He hiccuped into the phone, blushing softly.

“What's up?” The man's voice was soft and caring and Dean had to be careful not to sniffle.

“I know y-you're probably b-busy.” Dean tried to keep his voice steady. “But I need help.” He admitted.

“Where are you?” Sam asked, concern suddenly present in his voice.

“Home.”

“And where is that?”

Dean told Sam his address and the man promised he was on his way. Dean got up and went to rinse his mouth out before he went out to the porch to wait for the man. Nearly ten minutes later, a black car rolled up and Sam got out. The man wasted no time in crossing the front lawn and sat down next to the still sniffling boy. In the time it had taken Sam to get there, Dean's cheek had gotten red and swollen, definitely going to bruise up later.

“What happened?” He asked softly.

Dean shrugged. “It's nothing.” He said, which wasn't entirely a lie.

“Dean, I think you need to tell me what happened.”

“Dad got mad that I didn't do the dishes well enough.” Dean said quietly.

“Dean.” Sam said softly, turning his head to look at him more directly. Dean did his best not the flinch away. “Why don't you let me take you over to the nurses office? Get you patched up a bit.”

“You can get into the nurses office?” Dean asked.

“Well, I always was a teachers pet. Turns out I'm even better at it as an adult.” He smirked and Dean couldn't help but laugh despite the pain in his cheeks.

Somehow, he followed Sam to the car and got in. The man made the drive to the school, even letting Dean pick out the music. That was something he was certainly not used to and he hummed along as the rode along the roads. Soon enough, they got to the school and Sam led them inside. He had a key to the school and unlocked the door. As the sun was setting low in the sky, all the staff had gone off to be with their families for the evening. Dean wondered if Sam had a family.

Once inside, Sam led the way to the nurses office. Dean knew the way of course but it was still nice to just have to follow Sam. When they got there, Sam gave Dean a playful smirk.

“Hop up.” He patted the table. “I'm Dr. Sam and I will be attending to you today.”

Dean giggled softly as he climbed up onto the table. Sam dug into a freezer and came out with an ice pack. The man stepped up to Dean to press it to his cheek. The way Sam was standing right in front of him, Dean had no choice but to spread his legs to make room for the man. It was odd and reminded him of uncomfortable situations where his legs had been spread by a man before but he just forced his mind back to the present.

“It's not ok that he does this.” Sam said quietly.

“You just get used to it after a while.”

“You shouldn't have to.”

Dean had thought of the man between his legs before if he was being honest. He had to keep his mind focused, lest his cock betray him in his jeans. Sam kept the ice pack firmly pressed for a bit, distracting Dean with conversation about Kansas State or drawing or even business to humor Dean. Eventually, Dean's cheek didn't hurt as much and he gave Sam a soft, doe eyed look.

“Thanks Mr. Winchester.” Dean offered.

“Please, you can call me Sam when we aren't in the classroom.” He smiled that million dollar smile. Dean was glad he was sitting down because his knees certainly got weak.

“Want me to take you home?”

“Yeah, I should probably get back before he does.” Dean sighed.

Sam made sure that Dean took some pain medicine and then they were off again. The man took Dean back to where he'd found him. When Dean climbed out, he tossed a glance over his shoulder and offered Sam a sad little wave. If Dean had his way, he'd stay with the man for at least the rest of the night. But, as life would have it, Dean couldn't have that. All he had was the looming darkness of his house ahead of him. Dean sighed and pushed through the front door, closing it behind him. He really had to figure out his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Be sure to leave a comment and I'll be sure to respond. 
> 
> Before a war breaks out in the comment section, let me just get out in front of something. I don't mind Destiel and think it is a cute ship. I even have a fic up that is just about them (different universe though). There may be Destiel moments as Cas is Dean's best friend but it is not my intention for it to be a focus of this story. This story will revolve around the dynamic that develops between Sam and Dean, though Cas will show up at times. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it and I hope you will stick around for coming chapters!


	3. Chapter 3

The spring had transitioned from its early, mild climate into the glaring heat of the summer. Not that Dean minded, really. Summer meant all kinds of fun to be had. All kinds of people to look at. Dean didn't really have his eyes on them as much this summer as he had in years past. No, this year his heart was set on one Mr. Sam Winchester. It wasn't lost on him that they shared a last name, but as far as he could tell, there was no relation. Dean wasn't sure he'd stop even if he found some family link between them anyways. Mr. Winchester was the first adult in his life to show a genuine interest in Dean and what he had to say. The man valued his input on the works they were reading and often spent time after class discussing this ideas with Dean. There wasn't anything in his life that had pushed the pace of Dean's heart faster than that.

Rolling onto his stomach in bed, Dean groaned as he realized he was being woken up way to early on a Sunday morning. The sun was beaming through his window shades, hitting his eyelids at an illegal hour for this to be happening. A soft sigh left his chest as he laid there, aware that he wasn't going to be able to go back to sleep now. He found that his ears were scanning around the house, listening for any sound of his father. It was early, maybe he still wasn't up yet. Dean should've known better. John was ex-military, seven am was sleeping in for him. A creak on the floor board outside his room told him that his father was closer than he wanted to admit. Swallowing thickly, Dean tried his best to lay still, playing dead for the bear lurking nearby.

A rush of air and the creak of his door let him know it had been opened. He flicked his gaze up to his headboard and then looked back over his shoulder. There he saw his father standing in a pair of black boxers, the hair of his torso dark and thick. Dean had to admit – on some really fucked up level – he knew his father was classically handsome. He was still working to process that he felt that way.

“Dad.” He half whispered. “It's early, I'm tired.”

“I didn't ask you to get up.” He smirked before slowly lowering himself onto the bed.

Dean could feel the mattress sinking beneath the weight of the man then his stomach shifting along with it. A set of calloused hands felt up his thighs and then gave his ass a light squeeze. It made his stomach flutter in a way that he didn't want to admit. Dean had learned a lot about his father over the last few years. He could read the man like an open book and right now he wasn't feeling aggressive. He could tell this version of his dad would be slow and gentle. As if his brain wasn't already scrambled enough, anytime John was gentle with him it just served to confuse him more. Seconds later, he felt his blue briefs sliding down his legs and heard them tossed to the floor nearby. Dean bit his lip, heart quivering slightly.

John spread Dean's cheeks apart and Dean wondered what was coming next. The rough feeling of the stubble at his ass let him know exactly what was coming. His dad was eating him out. The man's tongue pushed up into Dean and it caused his cock to swell beneath him. _Fuck Dean, get it together. You can't like this._ As if his father was reading his mind, the man held his cheeks firmly spread apart as he pushed his tongue right into the bundle of nerves that made his legs jerk a bit. There was a dark chuckle from John and the man pushed on, working his tongue against that sweet spot that had Dean losing his breath.

Dean did his best to not let his body react, tried to think of things that would make the erection between his legs go away. He didn't want his father to have any proof or evidence to hold against him. But despite his best efforts, the man was just far too talented with his tongue and Dean had to bite down onto his pillow to drown out the little noises in his throat. Sweat formed on his forehead as he could feel his body begin the climb up to its peak. Things weren't always bad with his father. Often after something rather bad, his father would resort to 'making up'.

Soon, he felt his thighs quiver as the tongue in his ass and the friction of the sheets proved to be too much. He let out a pitched squeak as he came hard, making a mess on his sheets and belly with his cum. He let out a shuddering breath as he felt himself fall down fully against the bed and then felt a rush of cool air as his father pulled away. A second later, he could feel John move from the bed. So this wasn't a fuck then. At least Dean knew well enough to count his blessings.

Once he was able to get himself cleaned up and went down for breakfast, his father told him that they would be heading for the lake for a while. Dean couldn't help the excited little flutter in his tummy at that thought. The lake was one of the most exciting spots in their town and he hastily made his way up for his swim trunks once they were done eating.

After the short drive, Dean clambered out of the Impala and made a straight shot for the water, having tossed his shirt into the backseat. The water was always fun and freeing for him and he couldn't wait to get out and experience it once more. He heard a laugh from behind him and he saw his father jogging to keep up.

“I'm getting too old to be chasing you like this!” He smiled.

Dean couldn't help but to remember when his mom was around and things were better. When his dad was happy and they had a family. Things had been so different back then. Dean had even heard chatter through the walls at points about them trying for another kid. A little brother... now there was an idea that excited Dean. If only.

“Yeah, well I don't feel sorry for you, old fart!” He called back before launching himself off the pier and out into the water.

He came down with a splash and shot out into the depths. He held himself under for a moment until he could tell his father had hit the water too and then he shot for the surface. He came up and took a sharp breath before glancing around. Within seconds, his father burst up right beside him and Dean couldn't help but smile and try to pull back, splashing water at his father. His father was strong though and had managed to catch Dean by his wrists and was pulling him in.

“Who says I'm an old fart?” The man smirked.

“No!” Dean laughed playfully, kicking his feet under the water.

A moment later, Dean felt himself pushed under the water by his father and he held his breath. Dean tried to move but the man was stronger than Dean. It wasn't long until John let Dean come back up and Dean was met with the playful smirk.

“Don't forget who your daddy is.” He winked.

Dean gave his own smirk before spitting water he'd held in his mouth into John's face and then darted back out into the water away from the man. John chased after him a second later and Dean felt a genuine laugh leave his throat.

They spend a long while playing their game of cat and mouse. It ends when Dean had taken John's back and held his arms wrapped around the man's neck, his legs lazily tangled around his waist. Dean couldn't help but notice the firm muscles of his fathers abs. He shouldn't have. God, why did he?

“I got you now, old man.” Dean laughed. “If I go down, you go down.”

“Alright.” His father held his hands up in mock surrender, keeping them afloat in the water. “You've got me fair and square. Now, what do you say we head for that little spot over there?”

Dean's stomach did a little flip when he saw where his father nodded off to. It was a cozy little spot that offered some shelter from wandering eyes. Dean nodded and then John swam the pair of them over to that shore. They climbed out, dripping wet before falling into a patch of sun nearby. Dean laid out and soaked in the heat, worn out from the playful time in the water. It wasn't long until he felt a pair of eyes on him and he looked over to where his father was laid out beside him.

“You're a good swimmer.” John commented.

Dean sat up onto his palm, looking down at the man. “Yeah, well you're still an old fart.” He teased.

John laughed before sitting up a bit himself. Dean couldn't understand why but his breath caught in his throat. He saw John lick his lips before moving his body closer to Dean's. Now they were touching and Dean couldn't bring his eyes up to meet John's gaze. All he could feel was the hot breath leaving his father's body as it brushed over his neck and out past his shoulder. Electric was coursing through his veins. John bridged the gap a moment later, pressing their lips together in a slow, gentle kiss. Dean was taken aback by the gentle nature of it but he made no move to pull away. _You idiot, don't kiss your father!_ And yet, despite his best efforts, he held the kiss for what felt like hours.

When they finally broke the kiss, John's eyes were heavily lidded and Dean felt like his breath was lighter than it had ever been before. Dean could tell his father was hard through the man's trunks. Dean could hardly believe the words that were forming in his mind but he couldn't help the way they pushed out past his lips.

“Do you... do you want me to...?” He gestured loosely at John's bulge.

“Do you want to?” John asked. It was the first time the man had ever bothered to ask Dean.

Dean cursed himself. “Yessir.”

Confusion spiraled around Dean's mind. He wasn't sure why he had said yes. Perhaps there was a part of Dean's brain that John had molded into total submission finally. The words had been so automatic but Dean couldn't shake the feeling of truth they left lingering in his gut. John laid out again and Dean moved up onto his knees. Carefully, he undid the draw string of the man's trunks and opened them up to watch the fat cock flop out onto his father's stomach. Dean felt his toes curl in a funny way as he leaned down and took the length between his lips, pushing until he felt the head at the back of his throat.

It was a familiar taste; salty and musky. Dean closed his eyes as he began to work the man's cock with his mouth and throat, feeling John's fingers curl into Dean's hair a moment later. But for now, there was no force, only the presence of his fingers. Maybe, if Dean went along with things, John wouldn't be so bad. He'd never considered that before. He kept his head moving in a steady rhythm, noting how the taste of salt was growing stronger as precum began to leak into his mouth.

Not long after that, Dean heard his father's grunts and then the thick ropes of cum shooting out into his throat. Dean made sure to swallow, knowing that spitting was not acceptable in his father's eyes. Dean sat there on his knees for a long moment, fingers trembling for some reason. John was quiet as he put his cock away and Dean still didn't meet his gaze.

They left not long after that, both of them a bit tired from their day at the beach. Once they were home, Dean got changed into his work clothes because he had an appointment to mow Ms. Tran's lawn that day. There were few people he was scared of more than his father and he was pretty sure that lady made his list. But she paid well for what she wanted and Dean was happy to oblige. He let his father know he was off and then he made the walk to her home which was a mere few minutes down the street. A knock at the door earned him a greeting from her son, the undoubtedly beautiful Kevin. _God damn it Dean, the kid is fourteen. Stop thinking like that._

“Is your mom home?” Dean smiled.

“No. She said you were coming though and she left this.” Kevin explained before he handed over the money.

Dean gave a nod and a little smile before he made his way out to her garage. God, Dean couldn't believe some of the thoughts that ran through his minds at various times. Maybe his father had truly fucked him up. Dean was supposed to be looking at guys his own age, not thinking of eyeing the pretty fourteen year old down the street. Perhaps it pleased Dean just a little to know that Kevin would pop up in the windows at time to watch Dean at work. And maybe Dean took his shirt off for show and blamed it on the heat. _Pretty little lips spread wide... fingers exploring everywhere. Knock it off, Dean._

Dean gave a little wave as he was off down the street again and felt his phone buzz in his pocket. When he glance down, he felt butterflies in his stomach again.

'Hey'

Somehow with one simple word, Mr. Winchester knew exactly how to drive the boy wild.

'Hey' Dean shot back.

'You free?'

Well that was odd.

'I guess I could be.'

'You guess.'

'Fine. Yes.'

'Dinner at my place'

That seemed like a quick leap forward.

'Really? My dad wouldn't like that probably.'

'So tell him you're out with friends. I know you're smarter than that.'

Dean felt his face burn bright before he twisted his fingers a bit and then replied.

'Alright.'

Once Dean was back home, he shot his father a quick lie about how he was going to go out to a movie with some friends. The man just gave a little grunt to acknowledge what was being said and Dean went upstairs to have a quick little shower. He couldn't believe he'd agreed to have dinner with his English teacher, much less at his home. That was incredibly private. But, he was doing it anyways.

When he was dressed, he waited for the text to come letting him know what to do next. His heart leapt out of his chest at the words that eventually popped up on his screen.

'I'm outside.'

Dean hurried down the steps and scrambled out the door to get to Sam's car. He climbed in and gave him a panicked look.

“What're you doing? Go! If my dad sees you, he'll kill us both!” He hissed.

Sam just shook his head a bit before he was off with the boy in tow. Dean settled in after a few tense moments and Sam tossed him a smile.

“You can pick the music.” Sam offered.

That was new. With his father, he never got the chance to pick out the music. It was always 'shut up and listen' with that man. This was a nice turn of events. Dean leaned forward and messed with the dial before he found the classic rock station. He never said his dad didn't have good taste in music. The ride was silent save for the music playing in the air around. Paradise City. A classic.

Once they got to Sam's house, which was pretty nice looking, the man led them inside and laid his keys on a table by the door. The decor was nice and the place was clean. Did Sam have a family? Dean wandered in and stopped when he reached the living room. It looked awfully cozy.

“This is nice.” Dean said quietly.

“The house or being here?” Sam asked with a sly smile.

“Knock it off.” Dean batted at Sam's chest.

“Don't play coy now.” Sam hummed before putting his hands up. “I know how you've been looking at me.”

“Like what?” Dean challenged.

“Like that time in the nurses office and I _touched_ you and it looked like you might explode.”

“That was... different.” Dean tried to argue but it was pointless.

“Come on, I'm starving.” Sam said and left no room for hesitation as he guided Dean into the kitchen.

Sam got a couple of steaks out of his fridge and put them on, the sound of frying filling the air around them.

“Have a seat.” Sam said. “Relax.”

Dean fidgeted a moment before he took a seat at the nice looking dinner table. It was already set. That was Dean's job usually. Why wouldn't Sam let him be helpful?

“You want a glass of wine?”

“Oh, I don't know--” Dean laughed nervously.

“Don't be silly.” The man said and poured him a glass of the dark red liquid.

Dean offered a small smile of thanks before taking a hesitant sip. It was a bit bitter but he could live with this. It wasn't but a few moments later and Sam was serving up a plate of a steak and a salad and god, it looked good. He sliced it open, noting the remaining red color. His dad was a well done kinda guy. Dean took a small bite and found the flavor practically melting his mouth. It was divine.

“This is so good.” Dean said around the food.

“Shouldn't talk with your mouth full.” Sam teased with a wink.

“Sorry.” Dean laughed a bit before going on to keep eating the steak.

He kept drinking the red wine and found that after a while, he was feeling pretty good and relaxed. This was a nice evening. From time to time, he'd glance up to find Sam watching him and that would bring color to his cheeks again as he would look away. Dean liked to think of himself as slick and cool but under the gaze of the man, he was nothing but a blushing school girl. Once dinner was over and the dishes had been cleared away, Dean insisted on helping Sam clean. Eventually, they made their way into the living room and Dean found himself sitting next to Sam, their legs touching with Sam's arm draped across the couch behind Dean. He'd kicked his shoes off and had brought his feet up to rest just underneath of himself as he leaned slightly toward Sam.

“This is nice, Mr. Winchester.” He offered.

“Please, call me Sam.” The man replied.

Dean gave a nod and had to brace his hands on Sam's thigh when the man rubbed his shoulder. He was slightly off balance thanks to the wine. He swallowed thickly and looked up at the man. If his father had taught him anything, it was what happened to him when he made a man hard. But what he found looking back at him wasn't the lust his father usually possessed; sure, Dean could tell Sam wanted him but it was... different. There was a quite moment building between them and before he knew it, their lips were pressed together in a kiss. It wasn't hard or consuming. The kiss was gentle and exploring; it felt like the kisses Dean had seen in so many movies. It felt like the kiss Dean had always wanted.

Slowly, it morphed into a more heated kiss as Dean felt Sam's hands groping at his back. Dean felt a little noise of pleasure slip out of his throat as he brought his hands up to Sam's chest, loving the firm muscle he found there. Dean had tried to convince himself for a while that he could be interested in girls. But here, kissing and feeling Sam, there was no room left for doubt.

Dean was wondering if Sam would fuck him tonight. He watched for the signs he'd come to expect but they just stayed like that. Kissing. There was a bit of Sam's tongue exploring his mouth and Dean didn't complain. He liked the way it felt. His fingers curled into the fabric of Sam's shirt as he pressed harder against him, trying to press his body as close as he could get it. Dean _wanted_ to fuck him.

Though that wasn't in the cards for their evening as far as Dean could tell. A while later, Sam broke the kiss off and Dean pulled back, cheeks flushed. He was out of breath and moved to straighten himself out, willing his erection to die down before he had to stand up. Sam helped him up and told him he needed to get ready for the school day the next day. Dean understood and the man drove him home. Dean didn't take his eyes off of Sam's car until he was forced to close his front door. The sound of his fathers snoring hit him from upstairs. _Good, he was asleep_.

Dean was about to sit on his bed when he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. He frowned when he saw Cas' name on the screen. He put his phone up to his ear as he answered the call.

“Cas?” He asked.

The boy's voice sounded wrecked. “De-Dean.” He was crying. “Dean, can you come get me?” The boy asked in a sad voice.

“Where are you?” Dean asked, heart beating a bit faster.

“I'm out by the quarry.”

“What in the hell are you doing out there?”

“Do-don't yell!” Cas cried again into the phone.

“I'm not yelling. Look, I'm coming ok? Just stay put.”

“Alright.” Cas sniffled.

Dean would ask to borrow the car but he didn't want to wake his dad. The man was passed out drunk right now and wouldn't even wake up if Dean tried. He was all too familiar. He grabbed the keys and went out to the Impala. He'd driven it before but never without his dad. He had his license though, he could do this. He fired the car up and then pulled out, heading to find Cas. When he got out near the quarry, he found the scared looking boy on the side of the road. In a tank top and shorts that were... a little on the short side. Cas climbed in and Dean looked over at him.

“What in the hell happened to you?” He asked.

“Ben-ny left me out here.” He hiccuped.

Dean groaned and sat back against his seat. “What the fuck did he do that for?”

“I don't know!” Cas whined before scrubbing at his face. “We came out here to hang out and he wanted to... y'know.” Cas gestured.

“He wanted to fuck you.” Dean said bluntly.

Cas looked flustered. “He wanted more than what I wanted to give him right now. So he got mad and just took off.”

“I still vote I punch him in the face.”

Cas glared at him.

“Alright, no punching.”

“Just take me home?” Cas asked.

“Sure thing.”

With that, they were off down the road and eventually they pulled up in front of Cas' house. Cas looked over at the house with a sigh before turning to look back at Dean. The younger male hesitated a moment before leaning over and hugging Dean. He squeezed hard for a moment before pressing a chaste kiss to Dean's cheek. Dean felt his heart nearly jumping into his throat. He didn't like Cas like _that_. Cas was nice and all but Dean was more into guys like Sam. He couldn't bring himself to hurt the boy's feelings any further that night though.

“Thanks.” He said as he hopped out of the Impala.

God, he had so much shit to figure out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Sorry the update took so long but I hope you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I just wanted this first chapter to be an opening/prologue type thing. I just wanted to set up the scene. It's a bit short but as I begin to flesh out the story more, I will have longer updates. At any rate, I hope you enjoyed this little slice of evil and hope that you are inspired to leave a comment!


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